


Merry Christmas, love!

by Ahiku



Series: Three Mighty Words Universe [2]
Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: M/M, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-30 13:40:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6426112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ahiku/pseuds/Ahiku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simon and Baz celebrate their first anniversary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Merry Christmas, love!

** **

**BAZ**

Today is the day before Christmas Eve. Our first anniversary and hence a very important day to me. Of course I'd like nothing better than spending the evening with my boyfriend. Simon Snow.

But I can't.

I can't, because I always need to disappoint myself. My life is no fun when I'm not constantly suffering.

Joke aside, the main reason is that I have to spend the holidays in Oxford. (You might think you finally stop being under the thumb of your parents when you're an adult, but since I just started university, I'm still depending on them. They expect me to spend Christmas with them, so I have to oblige.)

Don't get me wrong, I don't need to force myself to stay a couple of days with my family, but I'd prefer to have that certain bronze-curled incubus with me. I also want him to be save, though. And I guess I can't guarantee for his safety at my family home. (I really don't know if I should feel horrible or gutted...)

My father still carries a severe grudge against Snow, since he accidentally created the biggest hole ever right above our property in Hampshire. It doesn't matter that he just sucked the atmosphere dry to help me. To fill the void in me the Humdrum had created. It also doesn't matter that Snow refused the Mage's heritage. (He's still blaming himself for the death of his mentor and would feel really guilty to use any of the Mage's money. Bullocks if you ask me, but I want him to feel better, so I let him do what he thinks is right.)

Father doesn't care that Snow prevented a war and that he sacrificed his magic for me. For everyone. For the entire magickal world. Father also fails to understand that Snow is as dangerous as a newborn kitten with demon's wings and devil's tail.

My family still objects to everything the Mage stands for. It goes without saying that Simon Snow is a part of it. As if it's not exhausting enough to stay here where I have to pretend I'm not a queer vampire, I also have to ignore my love relationship with my former nemesis on our anniversary.

(At least I could convince my parents that I can't stay a fortnight, because of reasons. So I'll go back to London the day after tomorrow. We'll celebrate our anniversary then.) (I insist on a celebration!)

I guess not even Simon understands why this day is so crucial to me. Or maybe he does. I don't really know. But I seriously value the day our bitter enmity turned to friendship and love. The day Simon gave me everything I wanted for eight long years, everything I was longing for. Himself. Hope. Warmth. A life purpose. A future...

Well, it's late. My brothers and sisters are sleeping, dinner is long over and I don't think anyone will disturb me, so I can call him now. I make myself comfortable on the couch in my room and grab my mobile phone. The second I want to deal his number, the device is buzzing in my hand, nearly giving me a heart attack. (Good that I'm already dead.)

The second almost heart attack follows when I read Simon's message.

_“Meet me @ Eynsham Hall cottage to the left of the main building room 2?”_

What for Crowley's sake is he doing in the Oxfordshire countryside? He was supposed to spend Christmas at the the Bunce's.

 _“I'm on my way.”_ (And learn how to punctuate, I want to add. But I don't.) (I'm going to see him today, I'm too happy to be a wanker about his messaging skills.)

I sneak outside and borrow my aunt Fiona's car without asking. Our hunting lodge is in the middle of nowhere, so I don't really need to cast **“Make Way for the King!”** to forge ahead. The streets are empty. Eynsham Hall is fortunately not that far away and I reach the old manor house after a 30 minute drive. It's a magnificent building. I remember I visited the main house when I was a child, and one of the business associates of my father had held an elegant posh party. The decor is classic yet has a quirky edge. I really don't know how Simon can afford to stay here. But he said he's staying in one of the cottages, so I guess they are cheaper. (Oh, and he probably still has some Leprechaun gold left.)

I park aunt Fi's car and search the cottage. The grounds are covered in snow which look fabulous, but it really is freezing cold tonight. I quickly walk from the main house to the left until I find a small, slightly run-down house. (That looks more like Simon... and business class. I don't mind, though. I'm so glad he's here.)

My heartbeat quickens as I walk closer. My feet carry me faster and faster towards him. The window next to the main entrance is wide open and I can't help but stop right in front of it. There he is, lying in the comfy double bed, wrapped in the warm duvet. His head is slightly tilted to the side, his breathing measured. The blue light of the telly is caressing his sleeping form. He's so beautiful and at peace that I have a feeling I should let him stay in his lovely dream-world. (And as if I have no right to destroy this utterly gorgeous picture.)

In the past, I was always up for excessive staring, but tonight this is not enough. I want more. I need more.

So I do what every cliché vampire would do and climb through his open window.

 

**SIMON**

I hear there's someone climbing into my room, so I decide to open my eyes. Slowly. My vision is hazy, since I'm still drugged with sleep. But after a short moment, my conscience returns to me and I recognize Baz's slender silhouette in front of the window. He's standing with his back to me, closing the curtains and turning on the heater. (Which is really loud. Sounds like a jet engine.)

My breath is fogging up the cold air around me. I'm sure he'll start complaining in 3, 2, 1...

“Alistair Crowley, it's bloody cold in here. Always sleeping with the window open. One day you'll catch your death, you stupidly gorgeous twit,” he mumbles under his breath, desperately rubbing his arms to warm himself up. He's shivering all over. (I'm starting to feel sorry for him.) (Sending my poor, always freezing vampire boyfriend into the cold night is not exactly nice of me at all.) (Seriously, you could microwave that bloke for five minutes and he'd still be colder than Canadian toilet seats in the wintertime.)

He turns around. Finally, our eyes meet each other's. My heart races.

“I left the window open for you,” I say.

“I figured,” he answers, trying to be snappish, but he can't hide that lovely smile at the corners of his mouth.

I beam at him, causing his cheeks to flush, and lift my blanket. The cold hits me like a ton of bricks.

“Jesus fucking Christ, it's brass monkeys in here!” I shout and get up, jumping from the bed right into his arms. He catches me, and I wrap my bare legs around his waist, hugging him fiercely. He tumbles slightly, but manages to hold me without difficulties. (His hands are on my buttocks. And I have to say, it's a really nice feeling!)

“You're oddly heavy for your skinny frame, Snow,” he teases, but apparently he doesn't even think about letting me back down to the floor.

“You have super-strength,” I remind him, just in case he has forgotten.

“Yeah, otherwise I would never be able to carry you,” he says and walks into the direction of the bed, trying to throw me on top of the mattress. He fails miserably, causing me to giggle childishly. (I guess one of my ancestors was a koala baby.)

“You're pretty lively for someone who just woke up.”

“I just took a nap because I was bored. Not because I was tired. There was nothing on the telly. Just some guys who were taking the piss out of the government again,” I say and yawn.

“It wouldn't hurt you to learn a bit more about politics.”

“It's Christmas Eve!”

“In what way does that matter?” He says and rolls his eyes.

“It's Christmas Eve, Baz! I don't want to learn tonight, I rather want to see you.”

Suddenly, his cheeks are dusted with a red hue. Lovely. He must have fed properly tonight. I giggle and kiss the pinkish skin. Then his nose. It's cold. Like an icicle. I let my legs slide down onto the floor, still pressed against him. His large hands stay on my backside.

“You all right, love?” he breathes, looking at me worriedly.

“Yeah, everything’s hunky-dory. Why?” I ask.

“Why are you here?” He closes his beautiful grey eyes and lightly shakes his head. “I mean, don't get me wrong. It's brilliant to see you, Simon. But weren't you supposed to stay with the Bunces?”

“Yeah. Well, Premal came back and kept picking fights with me. About the Mage. I mean, he really admired him and he's not over it yet.”

“I see,” he answers and strokes my back until his hand meets my still invisible wings. “But why did you have to leave?”

“Family comes always first, Baz.” I smile at him. “I was not the one who wanted to fight, but I was the one who had to go. I tried to avoid him, but he even followed me to the bathroom.”

He raises one of his eyebrows. I shrug.

“He was pissed like a rat. Seriously. It was not funny at all. The atmosphere was horrible. And I felt bad for everyone else.”

“So you left?”

I nod. “It's not my family, you know? And I didn't want to leave the decision to Penny's parents. Of throwing me or Premal out of the house. It's better this way. I've already messed up their Christmas celebration last year.”

“And Penelope just let you go?”

“Of course she wanted me to stay. She was in rampage mode, really,” I laugh. “It was quite scary. I mean, you know her.”

 

**BAZ**

II think I'll never stop feeling sorry for him. How can he still laugh? How can he just shrug off so many negative experiences?

I wonder if he ever felt wanted and not just like a barely tolerated house guest. (That's what he was when he spent Christmas with my family last year. I mean, I wanted him. I really wanted him. But I also just invited him, because I knew he had no other place to go.)

“Yeah,” I mumble against his soft curls, kissing his temple again and again. I want him. I wanted to see him so bad.

“I'm glad you're here,” I say and embrace him tighter. “I really am.”

Our lips meet each other to share a moment of the most eloquent silence. It's a kiss full of sweetness and passion. Delicious. Promising. I miss his lips the moment he retreats from me. Even though we're not even an inch apart, it feels as if it is more than a mile.

“Happy anniversary, Baz,” he whispers. I blow air through my nose.

“I thought you forgot me.”

“I told you I'm a horrible boyfriend, so you don't tell me I didn't warn you.”

“But you didn't forget me.”

“Because I'll never be able to forget you, Baz. Never,” he breathes and kisses me again, pulling me closer to the bed. He turns off the telly and I quickly get rid of my shoes and my coat before I let my knees sink into the soft mattress on either side of his hips. He crawls backwards, makes me reach out for his tempting lips, glistening and rosy.

I kiss them gently but skilled. (I definitely had frequent snogging practise and training in the past year.) (Of course I'm really good at it now, ask Snow!)

And yet, I kiss him as if it is the first time I've ever kissed him and as if it's the last time we'll ever kiss again. I've learned to value the moment.

Warm. He's so warm. I feel his breath against the skin of my neck and shiver. His hands are everywhere. Grabbing my hair, stroking my shoulders, my back, my sides. And then under my sweater. It feels good. (So incredibly good.)

“Baz,” he whispers. His fingertips wander across my chest and brush my nipples briefly. A gasp escapes my lips. Goosebumps. His fingers move on to explore the sensitive regions of my spine. I close my eyes and take this wonderful feeling in. Then, his (still unbelievably magickal) hands trace from my hips up my sides, and I'm automatically raising my hands above my head as he removes my sweater.

His fingers slide through my belt loops, pulling me forward. I grab the headboard to prevent crushing him, so hard that my knuckles turn white. Particularly as he covers my stomach with soft kisses and nibbles, while his hands continue stroking and caressing my naked torso. An uncharacteristically high moan leaves my throat as his tongue dives into my navel. Without a warning. He's such a prick. Causing my blood to rush into my nether regions.

 

**SIMON**

I think Baz's bellybutton is one of his erogenous zones. His reactions are so lovely. The moon is shining through the thin curtains, casting a pale light in the room. His skin is so fair, it looks almost otherworldly beautiful in the bluish moonlight. I want to see all of him.

I want more.

Alistair fucking Crowley, I'm going to have sex with Baz. (We've tried it before, but it never worked out. One time he tried to get rid of his exceedingly snug trousers, fell and hit his head open. Another time Penny came home a day earlier than expected and didn't let me know about her early return. And one time, Baz's aunt Fiona suddenly showed up, although she was supposed to be in Romania.) (She cursed me. I had horrible diarrhoea for 3 weeks and lost about 15 pounds. I thought I was about to die.)

But this time, it really could work out. It will work out, right?

Oh dear! I— I'm nervous. I'm bloody nervous. But it feels good. It feels right.

My mind is fogging.

I can't think. I can't think anymore.

 

**BAZ**

I don't know what happened, but I'm suddenly naked while Simon is still fully dressed. (Apart from his trousers, since he slept in his sweatshirt and pants.)

He's stopped moving a minute or two ago. I guess realization hit him harder than expected. (That we're well on the way to our first time.) (That's what I think, at least. That's what I hope.)

But I won't force him when he's feeling uncomfortable. I want this to be a great experience for both of us.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath before I open my mouth.

“Are you okay, love?” I whisper hoarsely and search for his hand, intertwining our fingers.

His eyes meet mine— and they look like lapis lazuli gems in the pale moonlight. A luscious blue colour. Breathtaking and vibrant. An absolutely stunning equivalent to his bronze hair and tawny skin. And his hundreds and thousands of freckles.

“Yes,” he replies and I can see nothing but honesty in his eyes. Relieved, I undress him. Slowly. Enjoying every second as if it is the last.

And then, finally, he's lying in front of me. Naked and aroused. I can feel his quick heartbeat. I can smell the blood in his veins. Sweet, and rich, and delicious. He is so beautiful. So exquisite, so magnificent, so flawless.

I take my time to explore his body with my hands and lips, conquering every inch of his skin. My reward are lovely little moans and gasps. I try to find his most sensitive spots, since Simon had absolutely no troubles to find mine. (My stomach! And my navel...)

As I nuzzle my nose into the soft curls of his pubic area, I find out that the skin of his groin is exceedingly delicate. His leg twitches when I place one of the softest kisses there. Brilliant.

“Baz.” A breathless whisper. I'm pleased. He's stretching his arms to reach me, to pull me on top of him. I feel his invisible tail around my waist. I oblige and place my hands next to his head, careful not to hurt his wings. He's cupping my neck and pulls me down into a messy kiss. At first gentle and sweet, then wild and with flaming passion. I'm melting like ice in the sun. My legs start to tremble, his tail is tugging me on top of his body.

Skin meets skin. We both gasp. What an incredible feeling. He's so warm. My breath quickens. Simon's also panting, and squirming beneath me. I kiss his lips, his neck, his jaw, his flushed ears. His hands are stroking and groping me everywhere. My neck, my hair, my shoulder blades, my buttocks. His touch is almost desperate. Frantic.

And I'm grinding against him. Grinding. Is there something more primitive than that? (Even though I think I'm very good at following my instincts— I also didn't get a vampire manual when I was turned and I managed to “survive” up to now.)

“Wait, Baz. Wait a second,” he gasps. I freeze and bring myself back to all fours, which is not easy. My arms and legs are like jelly, I can barely support my weight.

“Did I hurt you?” I ask him worriedly, out of breath.

He shakes his head and runs his fingers up the slight contours of my muscles as I hover over him.

“T—too good. If you go on like that, I will...”

“Well, that's kind of the point, stupid.” I smirk, relieved. “Do you want to stop?” (Oh god, please say no!) (I'd be a gentleman and stop, though...) (But then I'd really need a cold shower. I feel as if I'm burning. It's similar from the feeling of being filled with Simon's magic, but also completely different.)

He shakes his head. Merlin and Morgana, thank you so much!

“I— I just...Uhm.”

“Use your words. Tell me what you want,” I pant.

He doesn't answer me. Instead, he conjures a condom out of thin air. (Seriously, it's as if he used magic!) Slight panic and anxiety wash over me. Crowley, I want to sleep with him, I really do. There's nothing I want more. But somehow I really get the wind up right now.

“I want to feel you, Baz,” he whispers, and his blue eyes tell more than thousand words. (I'm in one of my Snow sex fantasies, right? This is not real? This can't be real!)

“You sure?” I try to say, as cool as possible, but it's nothing but a pathetic murmur. He gives me a nod and his skin flushes almost completely. It's wonderful. His clumsy fingers open the package of the condom and carefully roll it onto me. My eyes roll back into my head. The gentle touch of his fingertips is almost enough to throw me over the edge. Then, another realization hits me like a steam engine. I'll be the one to invade Simon's body. (I always thought it would be the other way round. He seems more like the active type to me. I don't mind, though. Quite the contrary.)

“I trust you,” he breathes and tries to make himself comfortable on his back. (As comfortable as you can get with demon's appendixes.)

I swallow hard and place my hands on his knees, stroking his legs tenderly before I spread them apart and let myself sink between them. What a beautiful sight. I almost forget to breath.

“Relax, Simon. I’m going to go slowly. We have time,” I say, and I don't understand why my voice is so raspy. It's hard to think straight. I guess I start to understand why he doesn't think at all. I need to prepare him. “Where's the lube?”

He grabs the empty condom package and holds me in front of my nose. Extra wet.

“I don't think this is enough, Simon,” I pant, my free hand still gliding up and down his thigh.

“There's still stuff inside,” he says and shrugs. (Is that why he wants me to do the active part? Because he forgot the lube? Because he doesn't want to hurt me? But I don't want to hurt him as well...) So I just shake my head.

“Simon.”

“Baz.”

“Listen Simon, I'm not going to hurt you, just because we can't wait a little.”

“We've waited an entire year, Baz. It's fine. Just do it. Please,” he begs. “I want you.”

I sigh and wipe out the remaining lube with my index finger. “Fine, but tell me when it hurts. No need to play the hero, okay? I want you to feel good.”

“Okay,” he whispers and gives me a soft smile. His invisible tail is wrapped around my waist, his left hand wanders across my lower arm. Warm. His hand is so nice and warm.

I'm prepare him as carefully as possible. We have all the time in the world, so I savour the feeling of Simon's hot tightness. It's the most intimate thing I've ever felt in my life. He groans under his breath as every single one of his muscles tenses and he's twitching around my finger. Incredible. My eyes never leave his face. I'm ready to stop anytime, in case I discover the slightest hint of discomfort in his features. But he's either fucking brave, or really enjoying it. (According to his sweet gasps and moans I suppose the latter.)

I continue and massage him, until his patience runs out. He looks almost like back then when he was about to go off.

“Baz, I can't— can't carry on much longer,” he gasps. “I'm so close. So close. Baz.” It's amazing. He looks absolutely spent. His blood ascends to his face and his heartbeat becomes so erratic I start to fear he'll black out. Then I wraps his arms around my shoulders and his tail and legs around my waist.

“Baz!”

It's almost comical how easily I manage to slide into his immense heat. I let out a terrifyingly loud moan. I try to hold his gaze, but lights fade out from my sight. I feel him twitch around me. Everywhere. I feel his heartbeat. The blood in his veins. It's hot.

So hot.

I'm going to lose myself...

 

**SIMON**

Oh my god! Oh my god! Merlin and Morgana! He's inside. He's inside of me.

It feels so unreal, so foreign, but also so unbearably right.

His mouth is only a few inches away from my trembling lips. I can feel his breath on my skin. Our hands find each other and our fingers intertwine. He's shaking and looks completely done. But his face also shows undivided concentration.

I'm yours, Baz. I'm yours.

He leans in, kissing me on the lips with unrestricted desire, then he begins to move his hips, sending a shudder of pleasure up my spine.

Soon the room is filled with moans and grunts of varying pitches. (Pitches, haha! Sorry, I can't think properly.)

His name spills out from my lips as if I'm praying. I already know I'm lost. I won't last long... (I don't last long.) 

I feel dizzy as I find relief. A wonderful feeling is spreading through my entire body, making my bones melt and my skin tingle. It's intense, and scary, and fantastic.

 

**BAZ**

Simon looks at me through heavy eyelids, as if every synapse in his brain has been flooded with pure dopamine. (Or whatever you release when you reach your peak.)

He's flushed, well-fucked and beautiful. (He's always beautiful.)

A drawn out, breathless moan leaves my lips as my own orgasm ripples through my entire body. I can't help but shake uncontrollably. Simon wraps his arms around me, holding me tight and stroking my back lovingly. I feel myself slip out of him, gasping at the loss of his amazing heat.

He's kissing my cheek and the corner of my mouth before he manoeuvres both of us on our sides, never stopping to hold me tight. He's stretching his still invisible wings before folding them (I can hear and feel it), grabs the duvet to cover our naked bodies and snuggles up against my chest.

My breathing finally starts to get even and I lean my forehead against Simon's while my fingers start to play with one of his soft curls.

“You all right, love?” I ask, quietly.

“Yeah. I'm fine,” he replies. “I'm really fine. And you?”

“I'm feeling brilliant.” (I've never felt so alive before! So complete.)

“That's great, Baz.” His laugh is like honey. Smooth and sweet. Sometimes I think it's not possible to fall in love with him more and more, every day. But believe me, it is possible. I guess my love for him is infinite. It's like one of the holes in the magickal atmosphere. It wants to be filled with Simon. And it wants to grow. (Because that's what holes are supposed to do. Get stuffed, 11-year old Humdrum Snow!)

 

**SIMON**

I was afraid the next morning would be awkward. I mean we had shared one of the most intimate moments imaginable, and we were still naked, and sticky, and vulnerable.

But it wasn't awkward. Nothing had ever felt so right before. I just felt closer to him. And he felt the same. That's what he told me. We had talked quietly for a long time.

I guess most guys fall asleep right after having sex, but neither of us was really tired. I just felt a very comfortable heaviness and enjoyed the feeling of Baz's skin against mine, his fingers in my hair, and his soft whispers tickling my ear. He was completely at ease, relaxed and happy. (Later he told me his aunt thought he had taken drugs, and his overly good mood had scared the shit out of Mordelia, who's used to the grumpy and mean side of her older brother.)

No, it was not awkward. The morning started with sunshine, snogging, a hot bath and more sex. My turn this time. Baz wants us to be equal, and so do I. (Even though I wouldn't have minded waiting a little longer for that experience. However, it was bloody fantastic. Brilliant. Amazing.) (Otherwise— everything is great, as long as it's with Baz.)

“Merry Christmas, Baz,“ I whisper against his lips as I kiss him goodbye. I know he'd like to stay longer, but he has to go back to his family.

“Merry Christmas, love.” He hugs me tighter and doesn't even think about releasing me from his embrace.

We share a soft kiss. And another one. And another one. I can't get enough of him.

“Okay then...” He looks at me with puppy dog eyes. (Can you imagine Baz with puppy dog eyes? He's cute. Incredibly cute!)

“Yeah. See you tomorrow evening,” I answer and walk him to his car, giving his hand a last squeeze.

He really doesn't want to go. And I don't want him to leave.

Finally, Baz gets in his car (more or less reluctantly), and I wave as he drives away. My hand is still in the air when he's long gone. (I feel a little stupid, and some other guests are staring at me, so I decide to get some breakfast and coffee. I drink it the way Baz likes it...)

Crowley, I really can't wait to see him again...

**The End**

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! The cover art is drawn by me.  
> This story is a little add on for my other SnowBaz fanfic "Three Mighty Words", but you can also read it on its own. 
> 
> I hope I didn't make too many mistakes. (English is not my native language.) Have a great day, guys. ;D


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